If 9/11 made us examine what it means to be an American, then Hurricane Katrina makes us examine the meaning of home. Nobody knows more about the new meaning of home than Slate writer, Blake Bailey, who lost his brand new home in New Orleans just days after moving in.

Our new home is still in our heads and, hopefully, on some papers in an office someplace. We hope that those papers will soon move to the front seat of the builder’s truck, but if not, that is alright. Even if our house is delayed by the needs of those affected by the hurricane, we will be fine because we already know the meaning of home. Our current digs are crowded at times, yes, but home because it is filled with our favorite people.

Tonight we went to the lot to cleanse it of bad mojo (Brad’s word) by walking the perimeter of the lot with a lit smudge stick given to me by a brave woman who is redefining her personal definition of home. While we were there we met two neighbor cats. Also, we found four shiny, lucky pennies on the back of the lot. Those we buried at the four corners of where the house will be so that the builders and workers will have luck as they work on our house. Of course it is all nonsense, but it made us feel better.

Book Recommendation: The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd